San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1887-03-10
!ana dimes more preclous tnan ne ola,

he SAID 10 nlmSelt.
A servant entered with a letter. lie
turned deadly pale as he glanced at the
superscriptiOn. Surely he recognized
the handwriting?
Tearing it open, he read these words:
DEAR MARK:-I have return Il from
abroad, my foolish pr'd' mlub,'i 10 the
dust. 1t was impossible 81 enjoy ,hs roman
tic scenes OF the old world while the weight
OF your displeasure rested upon me. From
the moment landed upon European soil
my heart ached with an Irresistible longing
for America, 0nd-yOu! IL would have
been death 70 remain; So ! ava back again.
| know you love me as welt a. ever and |
never understood my own heart half 40
perfectly. The blame Of that foolish quar-
rel was all mine, and am ready to make
nearly as soon Is this letter. ISABEL
The letter fell from his hand. lie
knew by the way his heart beat that
the old spell had not lost its power.
What was he to do? Inglesida was the
last place for Isabel to come To, under
the circumstances; but she was already
on the way, and he did not know how
or when to intercept her.
"She is very proud woman" he
groaned. "She will never forgive me-"
Suddenly the thought of Mrs Dalton
came like an inspiration. The woman
was a distant relative of Islbel's. She
should receive the girl, and take her
away to some quiet place until the
first shock of disappointment had worn
away.
He had Just come to this conclusion
when a sudden hustle became audible
in the hall, and wOman's graceful fig
ure, exquisitely clad in silks and laces,
appeared in the open door.
"Dear Mark am SO glad-sO happy
so relieved to be back again, and"
1t was Isabel herself. The letter had
been delayed, and she had arrived at
almost the same moment.
Her trembling voice died away. Be-
fore Mark could speak or rise, she had
tottered forward, and claSping her arms
about his neck, hidden her tear-wet face
upon his breast.
Forgive me, Mark" she sObbed. II
have been so wretChed without you.
Tell me that all is forgiven and forgot
ten."
The proud, stately woman chung to
him with all the abandon of an impetu-
Gus child.-Mark felt himself thrill and
tremble under her careSsing touch.
Great drops came out thickly upon his
beautiful Her dark, brilliant eyes,
when presently she raised them to his,
were so full of pathetic pleadingl How
could he tell her in so many words that
she had come too late?
For the moment, all his hopes and
wishes seemed to be centred in Isabel.
Goodness and distrust were forgotten.
She never looked half so lovely or at
traCtive.
Heaven help us!" he faltered. My
poor darling, you do not know"
She stopped his lips with an impetu-
Ons kiss.
II can divine all you would say. You
are still thinking of that miserable mis-
understanding. Have | not taken all
the blame to myself? | did wrong, but
| have been cruelty punished. DO you
forgive me, or shall | go down on my
knees to sue for paTdOn?"
You would never do that, Isabel?"
Yes, thousand times, rather than
fail of making my peace with you. The
last vestige of pride has been stricken
from my heart"
She made movement as though to
fall at his feet, but he held her up with
both hands.
Not that" he cried, hastily; mot
that"
Then assure me that all is forgiven. +"
SIT is"
And you will try to forget how fool
ish and quarrelsome have been?'
"Yes. But"
She would not suffer him to continue.
Enough. We will both forget the
past. Bury it out Of sight, roll stone
over the grave, and never allude to it
again. Is it bargain?"
Yes, Isabel. But really there is
something I-I-ought to say"
mo, there isn't" she interrupted,
kissing him again. II decline to hear
word. You have been the martyr in
this ATARI the only culprlt. The
humiliation should all be mine"
Then she caught his hand, and laid it
caressingly against her cheek.
st is like blissful dream to be back
again, Mark, she softly murmured. II
feel that | never wish to waken from it.
1t would have been my death blow had
you received me cOldly."
How could he speak after such con-
fessiOn? The words died upon his lips.
1t would have been easier to plunge
knife into the warm, loving heart fut-
tering 50 near his own.
AZ lGllSIu ISdbCl ICltdSGl ltl SUI. j
had no intention of getting up aSCene,"
she said. blushing prettily. Il shall run
away this moment. Where is Aunt
Margaret? Let me 90 to her."
just as she was saying this dainty,
girlish figure tripped across the lawn,
under the window, singing snatch of
bird-like melody. Isabel drew quick
breath.
WHO is that?"
my ward, Sylvia Dreeme."
as she living at Ingleside?'
Eyes" Mark answered. The poor
child is an orphan. She has no other
home"
This was his opportunity to confess
the truth. Why did ne not? Was it
distrust of himself or sympathy for Isa-
bel that kept him silent?
An orphan! How very sad!' she eX-
claimed, with irresistible sweetness.
I'VE will be very kind to her, Mark,
and make good, so far as possible, the
places of those she has lost
Mark locked himself in. after Isabel
left him, and so it happened that the
three whose lives had been so uneXpect-
eddy blended did not all meet until the
dinner-hour.
Sylvia appeared, radian with happi-
ness. She did not know of Isabel's
presence in the house, until they stood
face to face in Mark Castleton's pres
ence, with the width of the dinner-table
between them.
A confused presentation followed.
Sylvia could never afterward remember
what responses she made to the remarks
delivered in Miss Grier's even, musical
tones. On catching the name, she felt